


Good Evening, Prime Minister

by Drarry_Quite_Contrary



Series: Fanatical Fam Discord Humpday Headcanon [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Boss/Employee Relationship, Fainting, Floo Network, Gay Kingsley Schacklebolt, Gay Sex, Henry is Hugh Grant obviously, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Muggle London, Muggle Prime Minister, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Podfic Available, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Workplace Relationship, do not post on other sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry_Quite_Contrary/pseuds/Drarry_Quite_Contrary
Summary: The Prime Minister had never met someone like Kingsley Shacklebolt. An efficient employee, exceeding kind and considerate. Not to mention, sexy as hell.PLEASE GIVE THIS PAIRING A SHOT! You won't regret it! <3 ;)
Relationships: Kingsley Shacklebolt/Prime Minister, Prime Minister & Kingsley Shacklebolt, Prime Minister/Kingsley Shacklebolt
Series: Fanatical Fam Discord Humpday Headcanon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002693
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Good Evening, Prime Minister

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Violetweasley19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetweasley19/gifts).



> ***All characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling***
> 
> Written for Fanatical Fam Discord: Slytherin Common Room Humpday Headcanon 
> 
> **Kingsley Shacklebolt**

“Shacklebolt, I need these files sorted before the end of the day, even if it means staying after hours.” He wouldn’t need to.

“Yes, Prime Minister,” said the large, deliciously handsome, dark-skinned man.

He was intrigued by the man. One day, the Prime Minister arrived at work to find Shacklebolt sitting at Charlotte’s desk, looking too large for the small desk. It was comical, really. However, when he left his office for lunch, he found it peculiarly larger than it once was. No, that was impossible. Desks did not _grow._ He must have been seeing things.

Shacklebolt was extremely efficient. To the point where he didn’t have enough for him to do. Once heaps of documents and folders, Charlotte’s desk was clear aside from a feathered quill and a pot of ink. A quill? Really?

When Shacklebolt had completed his tasks, the Prime Minister soon delegated him to answer calls, schedule and attend meetings on his behalf, and run to the corner deli for his favorite ham and swiss sandwich. Nearly everything he just. Did. Not. Want. To. Do. The man never complained. In fact, he always accepted each request with a broad smile—one that shook the Prime Minister to the core.

Soon he found himself leaving the office for no reason at all, checking the file organization, skimming through the old books that he had no interest in reading whatsoever, using the restroom an embarrassing amount. Each time, Shacklebolt did not hesitate—”Good morning, Prime Minister,” or “Good Afternoon, Prime Minister,” or “Is there anything you need, Prime Minister?” That voice sent shivers down his spine.

He had soon resorted to his newest low—retrieving his own coffee. When he lifted the carafe to pour the steaming liquid into his _“#1 Boss”_ mug Charlotte had given him the Christmas prior, a large hand wrapped around the handle on top of his own.

“Allow me, Prime Minister,” said Shacklebolt.

The Prime Minister froze, entirely aware of the man’s hand engulfing his own. He felt his cheeks heat. “Oh, no. It’s no bother. I think I can manage to pour coffee,” he chuckled nervously.

“Of course, Prime Minister. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” Of course, he did.

That smile, always that damned smile. Shacklebolt’s hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before walking away, leaving a marble statue of a man in his wake.

As the Prime Minister paced his office, he raked his fingers through his carefully coiffed hair. “Shit.” now he looked a fright. He looked into the reflection of the glass cabinet. His bangs were dangling in his eyes. He tried to push them back, to no avail. With a sigh, he accepted his fate. So he would look a bit...casual today. Nothing wrong with that. He was a confident man.

The next opportunity to leave the office, the Prime Minister was shocked by the noticeable silence at the absence of Shacklebolt’s greeting. He stopped and turned to the man, who was gaping at him. Almost immediately, Shacklebolt’s face resumed its kind expression. 

“Good Afternoon, Prime Minister,” he said, a bit softer than usual. Almost a...purr?

The Prime Minister looked down at his shirt, inspecting his jacket. Had he spilled something on himself? No, it did not appear so.

“Your hair,” said the deep voice. “It looks...nice.”

Looking up, the Prime Minister focussed on the loose bangs blocking his vision. He scrambled to push them back, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. He coughed. “Yes, hmm. It wasn’t behaving today, so I thought, hell with it,” he said as his eyes widened at the use of such crass language.

Schacklebolt laughed. “It suits you, Prime Minister.”

“Henry,” he said before he could stop himself.

Schalebolt raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sure that—”

“Henry,” the Prime Minister said more firmly. “It’s Henry.”

Schacklebolt sat there a moment before mumbling quietly, “Henry.”

The sound of his name on the lips of the man before him sent sparks across his skin.

“Kingsley,” the man replied.

“Well then, _Kingsley,_ ” said Henry, “It’s Friday and well near 4 o’clock. It looks like you have completed your work for today?”

Kingsley nodded. “Yes, Prime...Henry,” he quickly corrected with Henry’s pointed stare.

“Why don’t you leave early. I’ll see you on Monday.” As he smiled and turned back toward his office, realizing how ridiculous it must have looked for him to have exited and turned right back around, Kingsley called after him.

“What about tomorrow?” he said.

Henry paused before turning back to the handsome man. Handsome. Yes, he was lovely, wasn’t he? “Tomorrow?”

Kingsley seemed to regret his words. “Apologies. Have a good weekend, sir.”

Henry’s face fell. “There’s a pub downtown. Shall we grab a pint?” he said quickly as Kingsley turned to grab his coat. Damn, his ass looked good in those trousers. Shit. What was he thinking! He was his _secretary,_ for God’s sake! How completely stereotypical of him to fall for his secretary. Oh, but he wasn’t falling, no. Surely not.

“Really?” said Kingsley with the slight quirk of his lips. Not quite a smile, more that his curiosity was peaked. “The Prime Minister can just walk into a pub, hmm?”

Shit, he was terrible at this. “Well, er. Maybe not.”

“Well, how about my place?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No way. Bad idea. Terrible idea. “Okay, sure.” _WHAT?_

Kingsley smiled broadly. “Great, I’ll pick you up at eight.” He headed down the hall.

No. This was _definitely_ a mistake. _“Wait!”_

Kingsley was gone.

“Fuck. Me.”

He locked himself in his office while he took care of some _very_ important business.

* * *

_7:53 pm_

Henry paced the drawing-room. He had changed his clothes 13 times. Should he wear a suit? No, he’s going to his home, for goodness sake. But if he were too casual...that would suggest casual _ness,_ wouldn’t it? Did he want that? Didn’t he want that?

“Heaven, help me,” he breathed, running his hands down his face.

Henry had been out of the dating scene for, well, a _long_ time. It was hard to meet people casually when you were busy _running a country._ Not to mention... _men_. Sure, he worked with men all the time. Very old, very married, very _straight_ men. Sure he would get the occasional questions—“Don’t you want to settle down?” or “Clock’s ticking, all the good ones will be gone!” or “Don’t you feel lonely?” Oh, he did. He really did. 

Henry assumed that if he kept himself busy, he wouldn’t have to think about it. He wouldn’t have time to think about how long it had been since he’d been with a man. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What if that’s not what this was. What if he was just _friendly._ Kingsley felt sorry for him. Yes. He was too busy for any sort of social life.

No, he would just have to play it cool. Feel it out. He could keep his head—no need to do anything wild or reckless.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of green flames from the unlit hearth.

“Bloody fuck!” yelped Henry, ducking for cover.

“Well, don’t you look lovely,” said a deep, amused voice.

Henry peeked up from between his arms. “Kingsley! How?”

“Hold on tight, Prime Minister.” Kinglsey lifted him up as if he weighed no more than a small child. He held him close against him and…

Engulfed in flames, they were twisting, reeling, spinning out of control. Then, _WHAM,_ his feet hit the floor, teetering a bit from the spinning in his head. Henry’s eyes refocused and found Kingsley’s dark gaze.

“Wha...what. Where? How?” he sputtered.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “Come now, Prime Minister.”

“You’re a...a...w-wi...one of them?” he said, gaping. His eyes took in his surroundings. Tapestries draped the walls, shelves upon shelves of books and bottles, a table covered in instruments that Henry couldn’t begin to imagine what their use was for. He looked out the large window, framed with stained glass, leaving rainbow beams sparkling on the floor. The sun was shining. The sun was shining?

“It’s...night...isn’t it?” He was going to faint. He was definitely about to fai…

He fainted.

* * *

Henry yawned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. What a bizarre dream he had. Kingsley was a _wizard._ He traveled through the fireplace...just like the _other_ Minister. How absurd.

Finally blinking his eyes open, they widened in shock. Bloody hell. It hadn’t been a dream.

“Welcome back, Prime Minister,” said a smiling Kingsley, sitting on the bed beside him. The _bed?_ He scrambled up, taking in their both _fully clothed_ appearances. Thank God.

“What happened?”

“You fainted. Looking back, I think I could have gone about it quite differently. I thought that using the Floo would give you less of a fright, having seen Fudge on a handful of occasions. Apparently, I was wrong. I’m sorry if this was...is...too much for you.”

Henry gathered himself, calming his breathing. “I was just—surprised. I can’t believe I, well, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. If you are well, I’ll gladly return you home promptly. You may need a bit of a lie-down and some...time to process.”

“You want me to leave?”

Kingsley looked at him quizzically. “No...I just thought. You want to stay?”

“I just...yeah. Yes. I would, thanks.”

“Well, then. It’s a bit late, and dinner has gone cold, but I can warm it up with a—“

Before he realized what he was doing, Henry had reached out his hands, grabbing Kingsley by the neck, and kissed him. Surprised by his own daring, he released him quickly.

“Sorry! I don’t know what—“

In a flash, Kingsley had an arm around his waist, hand at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Henry melted. He had never felt anything quite like this. Electricity tickled his skin as the kiss deepened. He grabbed at the hem of Kingsley’s shirt, urging for its removal. The large man obliged. 

He felt so small, so small in the arms of the hulking man. But he was so gentle. As if he thought Henry would break under his touch. 

“You’re fired,” breathed Henry.

“What?” said Kingsley, stunned. “If I’ve done something wrong—“

“I can’t shag my secretary now, can I?” Fuck. What did he just say?

Lust filled Kingsley’s gaze. “Is that so?”

“Policy is policy.” Henry shuddered under Kingsley’s kisses down his neck.

“Of course,” Kingsley growled, as he unbuttoned Henry’s shirt. Then he paused. “But I was placed in your service for your protection. There’s a Dark wizard at large. How can I do that if I’m not at your side?”

This information did not shock Henry as much as it should have. “Then be by my side. I promise to never go anywhere without you. I don’t _want_ to go anywhere without you.” Henry’s cheeks were hot, embarrassed by his confession.

Kingsley smiled, “If you wish it, I will follow you anywhere.”

Henry allowed himself to be pushed down onto the bed, losing himself in the intoxicating scent of the man above him. Giving fully into Kingsley’s kiss and feel of his chest against him, Henry couldn’t help but curse himself. 

“If you weren’t so damn good at your job, I would have fired you weeks ago.”

Kingsley chuckled against his cheek. “You’ve never had a Wizard on your staff, and I’ll fancy a guess you’ve never had a Wizard in your bed.”

Henry gulped, “But this isn’t my bed.”

“Not tonight.” Kingsley’s eyes flashed mischievously.

“So...another night, then?”

“Would you like that?”

Henry smirked. “That depends. I haven’t conducted a thorough investigation of your alleged skills yet, _Kingsley.”_

The large man’s eyes flashed. “Hang tight, Prime Minister. You’re in for the ride of a lifetime.”

And ride he did, into oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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